“Chainsaw.”
We had followed the crowd of gods out to wherever Odin had decided to stash the powers. Past a pile of discarded wood lumps that looked like they’d been mauled by a herd of mutant woodchuck termites, around his garbage can, burn barrel, and into the corner of his back yard that ended at the tree line of what seemed to be endless forest.
Right there, shining like a drop of molten silver between an old elm and older ash tree, was an Airstream travel trailer.
“Trailer,” I said, even though our guesses were up. “Didn’t even know he had one.”
He not only had a trailer, he also had a big gray V-8 pickup parked in front of it with vanity plates spelling out SLEPNR.
Odin himself opened the door of the trailer and flicked on a light. The interior seemed to shine in gold, and in the falling light of day, it made the whole thing a lot more mystical than a travel trailer should be.
I’d never seen the inside of Odin’s trailer, but what I could see from the door looked like all the wall space was taken up with shelves and shelves of books.
Huh. Not really what I’d expected.
“All right, all right.” He came back out of the trailer, wiping his broad, nicked-up hands over the jug in his hand.
No, not a jug. A growler.
“Let’s do this.” He crooked one finger into the handle and sort of waved the growler toward me.
“A growler.” That was, I think, Aaron.
“Old family heirloom. Got it in Norway.”
It was earthenware, a nice brown and green glaze, the words WELL OF WISDOM were written across it.
“You can buy that at Bi-Mart,” Zeus muttered.
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Odin said. “I’m keeping the powers. They stay where I say they’ll be safe, and I say they’ll be safe in this jug.”
The gods shuffled a little as a slight mist started pushing down from the tree tops.
“That’s correct,” Ryder said.
Every head turned to him. He looked just as shocked as anyone else that those words had come out of his mouth.
Then all eyes shifted to me.
“Deities, meet Ordinary’s new warden. Warden Bailey, these are most of the gods of Ordinary.”
“Ha!” Crow yelled, and pointed at Ryder’s face. “And ha,” he added, swinging a finger my way.
I was tempted to swing a finger at him too. The middle one.
“Piper, meet the gods in town.”
She nodded and smiled like they were the best tippers she’d had all week.
“Piper is a demigod. Just thought you should all meet her. Mithra made her take the powers. She’s sorry about it and promises it will never happen again.”
She hadn’t actually promised that, but I was pretty sure she would, if asked.
“Wait,” Crow said. “Demigod. So who is her parent?”
No one moved. Someone chuckled uncomfortably.
I guess I had expected Poseidon to step forward, to recognize her. But this vessel who held Poseidon’s power was at least four Poseidons past the one who had fathered her.
Then: “Oh.” It was a soft, surprised sound. And Poseidon—the current Poseidon—stepped forward toward her.
He was a skinny guy, tall enough he had permanently hunched shoulders as if he needed to make himself shorter than he was. His hair was black and pulled back in a ponytail away from his long face. His eyes were wide and shifted between the colors of the sea.
“Piper?” He held his hands out, looking for recognition on her face. “I see you. I see you now.”
She took his hands and smiled up at him.
“Oh,” he said with soft wonder. “You’re beautiful.”
Piper blushed and that flush of interest in her eyes wasn’t a look a daughter should give her father. Which, technically, he wasn’t. Her father. That man, that vessel had died years ago. This man, this Poseidon was, well, he wasn’t my type, and while he was much older than he looked, so was Piper.
Were they falling for each other? Was it incest if they were, technically not even related? Was this just another grand way Poseidon was screwing things up?
My head hurt.“So,” I said to break up the insta-love going on because I could not deal with that right now. “Let’s get these powers stowed.”
I pulled the water bottle out of my coat and walked over to Odin. There wasn’t a ceremony involved in moving the powers. Well, no more than what was happening today, which was that most of the deities liked to come out and watch the powers actually be transferred.
Not that gods were untrusting of their fellow deities.
No, it was exactly that the gods were untrusting of their fellow deities.
“All righty.” I held up the water bottle that sang, hummed, thrummed with power. I still didn’t know how Piper had shoved it into a water bottle, although if Mithra had given her the bottle, it might make more sense.
Odin uncorked his growler of wisdom.
“Odin, do you promise to guard and keep hidden the deity powers of Ordinary for the length of one year plus four months?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ll let any deity come to your trailer, and will allow them to see their power, or reclaim their power at any time, day or night?”
“Yes, but not unless I’m present.”
“Right. Good. Everyone okay with that?” I looked around the group.
They looked...well, bored mostly, except for Poseidon who couldn’t tear his gaze away from Piper. It wasn’t like this was the first time we’d done this yearly hand-over.
“Crow, get in on this.”
Crow walked over to me, looking like he expected the powers to bite. Which, maybe they would.
He took the bottle away from me, then tipped it into the spout of the growler.
Power isn’t liquid. It doesn’t really follow the rules of gravity. Power does, however, follow the will of the gods, and the rules and contracts of Ordinary.
My father said he saw the powers as bright flaming colors. I see light, yes, but it’s soft and indistinct, more like a rainbow caught from the corner of my vision. What I do sense is the song.
Power, this much power, all mixing and colliding, created music that swooped down beneath my skin, pulling my pulse and breath and blood and bones to reach, to stretch, to feel the universe strumming through me.
My heart settled into the beat of the powers, my thoughts picked up and braided into the rising, falling, beauty of voice, chorus, song, song, song...until there was no time, no space, nothing but sound.
“Well, shit,” Crow said.
I blinked. Blinked again. I’d lost some time. The gods were all gone, and foggy mist had descended on the forest floor. My mouth was dry and so were my eyes, as if I hadn’t blinked or swallowed for an hour.
I did both, wincing at the pain and wiping away the tears at the corners of my eyes. Ryder and Myra were still there, Ryder looking like he was trying to decide if he had to burn his atheist badge, Myra looking steady and calm as she offered me a can of ginger ale.
“Thanks.” I sipped the cool soda. “What’s wrong?” I asked Crow.